Learning To Fall
by Allison Lane
Summary: Archie Morris answers a notice for a roommate, and his life starts to turn upside down...
1. Chapter 1

**Learning To Fall  
By Allison E.L. Cleckler**

_Author's Notes: This story probably requires some explanation. It is adapted from a roleplaying situation on Livejournal where I play Allison Chapman from Dubenko Junkie's story "Bases Loaded", and Dubenko Junkie herself plays (amongst other characters) Dr. Morris. So this can be considered an alternate universe of an alternate universe. :) I would give her co-author credit for this story if she would take it, and if FF.N would allow it, because half the scenarios and dialogue are rightfully hers. I merely thought it would make a good story for others to read if I adapted it and put it into its own context. So the Morris you see here is 90 Dubenko Junkie's brainchild, with 10 of my own personal twists on his character. As always, a million thanks go to her for read-throughs and constructive criticism.  
This story will be rated M for future adult situations and language, and will occasionally include references to past- or current-season episodes of 'ER'. I hope you all enjoy. :)_

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Archie Morris was the type of person who generally fudged his way through life, neither excelling nor doing miserably enough to fail, with few (if any) hobbies and nothing much that caught his interest. He had found something to love in music when he joined his high school marching band, even leading the drumline his senior year when they won the national Bands of America championship. But his father, a doctor, had insisted that his son follow him into the family profession. It was his way or the highway. And young Archie, too unsure of himself and too afraid to strike out on his own to follow his dream, simply went along and did as he was told.

He'd done moderately well in college and medical school. Choosing to go into emergency medicine—or rather, having his father choose for him—he'd passed all his exams, gotten all his certifications, even passed his boards on the first try. But his heart had never been in it, and it showed when it came time to deal with actual patients. He avoided the more serious traumas as much as possible; he still always managed to do or say the wrong thing, even when treating the most minor injury; and his colleagues all considered him a brainless idiot. Morris was used to that kind of attitude from his father, so he handled it the way he knew best: he played right into it.

But now he was a fourth-year resident, chief resident even. He knew perfectly well why he'd been given the job—the others wanted him to handle more paperwork and less patients. But he still pretended that he'd been chosen based on merit, as though he wanted to persuade himself of it; he was even beginning to try and actually earn it. Four plus years of sheer derision were beginning to wear down the defensive walls he'd built for himself, and merely skating along just wasn't cutting it for him anymore. Even the party boy act was beginning to grow old. The girls all seemed to have the same faces, the same empty heads. None of them stayed around for very long.

He wanted to be someone that he himself could be proud of, rather than living solely to make his father proud. He was slowly beginning to realize that he was never going to win approval in that department, no matter what he did. He just didn't know any other way to live his life.

But he thought he knew where he could start changing things.

* * *

Morris had a problem.

He'd just stepped off the elevator in his apartment building, and he could smell the fruits of his good-for-nothing roommate's sloth from halfway down the fifth-floor corridor. There had been a time when Morris wouldn't have minded the fact that his roommate smoked weed like a veritable chimney, but he'd lost his yen for the stuff the day Robert Romano had been smashed flat by a burning helicopter. The realization that it could have been him in the ambulance bay, rather than the former surgeon, had permanently soured him on toking.

Now, he minded. Especially since he was beginning to suspect that the guy was dealing and not just buying. And when the idiot was inevitably busted, Morris had no wish to be held as an accessory to drug possession and distribution when he didn't even smoke anymore.

Entering his apartment, he was met by a thick haze of blue smoke. The smell was overpowering.

"Dumbass," he greeted his roommate.

Todd was sprawled on the couch, watching ESPN and snacking on Doritos, his bong and assorted accessories still strewn over the coffee table. "Hey, Archie," he muttered vaguely.

Waving his hand in front of his face, choking on the fumes, Morris positioned himself between Todd and the television set. "Do you want to get reported?" he demanded.

"Dude, get out of the way," Todd protested, throwing a chip at him.

"Excuse me, but I could smell your stench from the elevator," Morris said nastily. "The damn _neighbors_ are probably getting a buzz. You keep this up and somebody's gonna call the cops on you."

Todd was unconcerned. "They should mind their own business," he replied blithely, craning his neck in an effort to see past Morris. "Move, bitch, I'm trying to watch the game."

"Fine, watch the stupid game. But get yourself another roommate to bail your ass out of jail. I'm through with this." Snorting in exasperation, Morris threw up his hands and stalked off to his room.

"Hey, could you get me a beer when you come back out?" Todd called after him, his eyes once more glued to the television.

* * *

County General Hospital had an online message board that its employees could use to communicate with each other. Most of the forum was given over to assorted medical discussion, but there was also a 'miscellaneous' section for general talk. It was mostly used to help plan and organize the occasional departmental holiday party, but links to current news stories, humorous items, and other topics that didn't fit elsewhere were also posted. Morris was looking through it in hopes that at least one other person at the hospital was also in need of a roommate. He'd decided that, this time around, he'd prefer to room with a fellow doctor-type who understood his lifestyle and wouldn't be bothered by it.

Browsing back a few days, he soon found what he was looking for in a topic entitled 'Roommate Wanted'.

_To anyone and everyone at County—  
I am looking for a new roommate as my current one is getting married and moving out at the end of this month. I'm amenable to both having someone move in with me or moving in elsewhere. Please contact for details.  
Allison Chapman  
Oncology_

Below her name she had listed her e-mail address, messenger ID, and phone number.

Morris didn't have to think about it twice—she needed a new roommate, he definitely needed a new roommate, and the offer was out there. Maybe he'd get lucky and she'd be attractive, too.

He checked the time and decided it wasn't too late to call. Heading out into the living room, he ignored Todd—who was still zoned out in a blue haze—and fetched the cordless phone from the kitchen counter.

The phone rang twice before a pleasant-sounding female voice answered, "Hello?"

Well, she didn't _sound_ ugly, if that was even possible. "Hi, is this Allison Chapman? I'm calling about the post she made on County General's message board, said she was looking for a roommate?"

"Yes, this is she," the voice said, sounding relieved. "May I ask who's calling?"

Morris put on his best 'important person' voice. He had so few things to take pride in, even if it was false pride. "Archie Morris. I'm the emergency room chief resident."

"Ah," she replied, and suddenly her voice had a faintly wary tone to it. He gave the phone a quizzical look. "I've heard of you."

"Only good things, I hope," he said cheerfully. They probably weren't. "So tell me about this apartment of yours."

"Sixth floor, near an El station, pretty close to County. Two bedrooms, comes with all your basic utilities plus cable internet and television. Your half of the rent would be two-fifty a months, plus you have to cover your own phone bill."

Her voice was still polite, but noticeably less relieved than it had been. Still puzzled by her change in demeanor but resolving not to give it much thought, Morris replied, "Awesome. So, are you seeing anyone? Will I have to put up with you banging on the walls all night long?"

"No," she countered. "Are _you_?"

He chuckled. "Are you asking me out?"

The joke obviously fell flat with her, as she said shortly, "No."

Morris cleared his throat and pressed on. There was always time for a second good impression. "So when can I move in?"

"You don't even want to look at the apartment first?"

"No… I just want out of mine as soon as possible." _Before the cops come busting through the door._

He heard a muffled sigh on the other end of the phone line. "Joey's moving out this weekend, and I've already paid full rent for the next month. At least stop by tomorrow so I can meet you. I've got the day off."

"Sounds good," Morris replied, inwardly giddy with elation at the thought that he would soon be free of Todd forever. "I'll show up around eight, then."

"Sure thing." There was a click, and the line went dead.

Morris turned off the phone and set it on his desk, looking at it thoughtfully. She didn't sound like she was too terribly bad a person, despite having become less than enthusiastic after he'd introduced himself. He mentally shrugged off the vague impression that he'd been insulted. Todd and his cloud of smoke were going to be history, and he, Morris, was going to be moving in with a young single woman who with any luck would be easy on the eyes. Problem solved.


	2. Chapter 2

**Learning To Fall  
By Allison E.L. Cleckler**

_Author's Notes: Thanks to Dubenko Junkie for the read-through, as always._

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Eight-thirty the next evening found Morris taking the stairs up to Allison Chapman's apartment. _But soon, mine mine mine_, he thought with satisfaction, mentally rubbing his hands together in glee. When he'd smugly told Todd, after getting off the phone with Allison, that he would shortly be bereft a roommate, the slob had simply shrugged and said, "Okay."

He'd done some sniffing around on his new roommate while at work that day. Apparently she was a technologist in the oncology lab, and still fairly young as he had guessed by her voice. The nurses' gossip mill also reported vague rumors that she had a fancy for one of the doctors on her floor. That suited Morris just fine. Getting involved with a roommate would end up being too awkward.

Then she met him at the door, and he immediately decided that he ought to reconsider that point of view.

Allison Chapman proved to be a slender young woman in her early twenties, with long red hair and a smattering of freckles across her face. The civil smile she gave him and her decidedly reserved demeanor didn't stop him from instantly developing a lustful crush on her.

_Whoa, boy, down. Hold that phone for a while. You're not even in the damn door yet._

She stuck out her hand for him to shake, which he thought was an oddly formal gesture considering they would be living together soon, and said, "So you're Dr. Morris."

"At your service," he replied with a grin. She had a good handshake. Hopefully that meant she wasn't the wishy-washy girly type. He didn't think he'd be able to handle having that inflicted on him.

"Well, come on in," she said, stepping back to let him inside. "Don't mind the mess, Joey's still getting the rest of her stuff packed up."

Morris looked around and nodded approvingly to himself as Allison pointed out the details of the apartment. It was definitely kept in better condition than his current apartment; Todd tended to create messes and leave them to molder until they began evolving into their own miniature ecosystems, and Morris was seldom around long enough to successfully prod him into cleaning up. Plus, Joey was leaving Allison a few pieces of furniture that weren't already hers, so the place wouldn't be completely barren even after he moved in. Morris owned few things outside of what he kept in his own room.

_The décor's not so bad, either_, he thought to himself, once again looking Allison over as he followed her back out into the living room from the bathroom. He wouldn't exactly label her as 'hot', though he was willing to wager that she could turn some heads if she put some effort into her appearance. At the moment she was wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, her hair in a ponytail, with no makeup.

"…and that's pretty much it," she finished, looking around the living room. The expression on her face seemed to indicate that she knew she ought to be polite, but didn't quite want to be. She hadn't been outright hostile, but her attitude was still beginning to make Morris vaguely chafe because he couldn't think of a single reason why she should already dislike him. He'd surpassed his own record—it usually took at least a day for people to decide they hated him, and it'd taken her all of five minutes. Over the phone, no less.

"So what's up with the skittish act?" he asked bluntly.

She blinked at him. "What?"

"You've been acting freaky ever since I introduced myself last night on the phone. What gives?"

For a moment she had the grace to look faintly sheepish, but then she smirked. "Your reputation precedes you."

He gave her a weird look. "Okay…"

She shrugged, and said, "You're tank boy."

The word 'tank' made the skin on the small of his back crawl. "_What?_"

Allison shrugged again, the smirk playing maddeningly across her lips. "Tank boy. You're that idiot who screwed up with a patient by not calling a psych consult and almost got yourself—and the hospital—blown up by a tank."

Morris stared at her in disbelief. He didn't know whether he wanted to wipe the smirk off her face by throwing an insult back at her or get his ass kicked for trying to kiss it off. Damn his pride _and_ his libido. "That was two years ago!"

The smirk turned into an amused grin that he found even more insulting. "I'd only been working at County for a few months, and it was kind of a big deal. I mean, how bad of a doctor do you have to be to make a patient so mad they want to obliterate you from the face of the earth?"

He had fervently hoped that that particular incident had faded from County's collective memory. Stung, Morris opted for the insult toss and retaliated by sniping, "You were working at County two years ago? And you're a lab _technologist_? You're how old, twenty?"

"I'm twenty-three," she replied evenly. "I graduated from college when I was twenty."

"That early, huh? Bet you've never been laid," he muttered.

The smile vanished. "Still want to move in?" she asked, a hair sarcastically, raising her eyebrows.

Again, Morris didn't have to think twice. "Are you kidding me? Hell yes… anything's better than where I am right now. Why, are you backing out?" As slightly off as he was finding her, he hoped she wasn't, in fact, going to back out on her offer. The apartment was a nice one, and it wasn't like he'd have to spend a lot of time with her anyway. Plus, she was still rather good-looking, which in his opinion canceled out some of the bitchiness.

Her lips in a thin line, Allison shook her head. Apparently she was just as stung by his jab as he had been by hers, which made Morris feel comfortably smug. Nothing like getting a little of his own back. "Nope. I can't afford to live here by myself, and you're the only person who answered my roommate ads."

"Well, it's nice to know where we stand with each other," Morris replied dryly. He could live with being a roommate of convenience. All his roommates had been like that. All except for Coop. But Coop was long gone, probably shacked up with some gorgeous girl who adored him, and his colleagues probably all loved him too. No, Morris wasn't bitter. Not one bit.

So much for a good second impression.

Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jeans, Allison began walking towards the door. It was a clear indication that their little meet-and-greet was over. "So I guess I'll see you on Saturday," she said neutrally. "We can get all the paperwork done then, too."

"Don't get yourself too worked up." He planned on getting gloriously drunk to celebrate his new digs. By the looks of things, she was probably going to count down the days like an inmate headed for the gallows. He told himself he ought to be immune to that kind of reception. The other doctors in the emergency room had reacted in much the same manner when they'd found out that he had been made chief resident.

She smiled tightly at him, and again offered her hand to shake. "Oh, don't worry about that, Dr. Morris. See you later."

He left feeling vaguely ambivalent about his new roommate, but determined to make the best of things. Allison already didn't like him, but then, no one else liked him either. She was cute, though. And smart, too, if she'd finished college when she was only twenty. That implied she was independent and could take care of herself and hopefully wouldn't pull stunts like ask him to buy tampons for her.

He had to admit, though, that it would've been nice for a change to have her like him.

To have _anyone_ like him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Learning To Fall  
By Allison E.L. Cleckler**

_Author's Notes: Thanks to Dubenko Junkie for the read-through, as always._

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_September 6, 2005  
Oh, Jesus. That idiot Morris has begun the process of moving his detritus into the apartment. When at home I've holed up in my room. The living room's already trashed and I don't even want to look in his room. Hopefully everything will get moved and shuffled around so the place won't look like a flea market for too much longer._

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Over the next week, Morris managed to get fully moved into his new apartment, with occasional assistance from Jerry, one of the admit clerks in the emergency room. He didn't think he'd ever been so acutely aware of how the atmosphere smelled when it wasn't composed of ninety parts marijuana to ten of oxygen. When he noticed Allison wrinkling her nose suspiciously around him, he went through three bottles of Febreze in an effort to fumigate his belongings. He wasn't sure how much it actually helped, but it was at least a step in the direction of no longer smelling like a tobacco plantation.

He saw very little of Allison when he was at home. She wasn't actively going out of her way to avoid him, but she wasn't making any effort to get to know him, either. When she got the urge to cook something for dinner, she would make enough for both of them to eat, but that was about the full extent of any consideration she displayed towards him. She seemed to spend most of her free time on her computer or reading, both of which she could do in her room, and most days she also took her bike to the lakefront for a spin. Morris hadn't really had much of an opportunity to engage her in conversation, but he got the impression that if and when he did, she wouldn't be very talkative. When she did speak to him, it was with a healthy dose of veiled sarcasm and occasionally even derision.

Morris sometimes thought about what she had said the day they'd first met, about his reputation preceding him. He wasn't aware of having a reputation for anything besides general idiocy, so he figured she probably had a low tolerance for stupidity and had prejudged him as being full of it. He wanted to be insulted by the notion, but by then he was so used to being taken at face value that it amused him more than anything else. Still, there was that little nagging voice in the back of his head that wished Allison had bothered to form her own opinion of him instead of automatically buying into the general consensus.

Well, impressions and reputations weren't undone in a day. It had been a few months since he'd been made chief resident and begun trying to turn his image around, and the other doctors still barely gave him the time of day. Abby Lockhart had even recently called him "Chief Pain in the Ass".

Somehow, he preferred "tank boy".

* * *

Friday evening, Allison Chapman sat nestled comfortably on the couch, reading a book and musing over her day. Her coworkers in the lab, Mark and Brian, hadn't played a single practical joke on her; she'd even taken her lunch break with Dr. Stewart, a senior oncology attending she was just beginning to feel out a friendship with after harboring a crush on him for months. After her shift she'd taken her customary bike ride by the lakeshore, then come home, changed into her pajamas, and made some Hamburger Helper for dinner. She was halfway through her book, but her mind kept wandering back to her lunch with Dr. Stewart. She didn't have the nerve to tell him she liked him, but was glad he wanted to be friends with her. At the very least, it was a start.

Then she heard a key in the door and her good mood soured slightly. Looked like Morris, the pervy idiot, was home from his own shift at County.

Morris let himself in the door and made a beeline for the fridge, dropping his keys and jacket on the kitchen table as he went. His day had been completely foul—Pratt had snarked his way through a trauma with him and Weaver, per usual, had steamrolled him while making her token daily pass through admit. Now that he was home, he just wanted to drown his self-pity in a beer. Grabbing a longneck out of the fridge, he was mildly surprised to see Allison out in the living room instead of her own personal Batcave, and decided to join her.

"Hey, babe," he said in greeting, flopping down onto the couch beside her and loosening his tie and collar. "Your day suck as bad as mine?"

Allison bristled at the nickname and pointedly kept her eyes trained on the book in her lap. "No."

"Shame… we could've commiserated." After a moment's consideration, Morris held his beer out to her. "You want?"

She glanced at him and the beer, but immediately went back to her book. "Miller Lite? No, thanks."

"Suit yourself, bookworm. I didn't want to share anyway." Morris grabbed the remote control off the coffee table, turned on the television, and started flipping through the channels.

"It tastes like dishwater," she muttered, turning a page.

Settling on a rerun of _Baywatch_, Morris tossed the remote back on the coffee table. It slid across the metro section of the previous day's newspaper and off onto the floor. "You would drink dishwater," he shot back. If she wanted to be bitchy, so would he. It might help him let off some steam. "It would explain your personality, anyway."

Allison's gaze slid back over to him, her eyebrows raised in disdain and indignation. "Excuse me? Dishwater personality?"

Morris gave her a like glance, deciding to opt for the blunt approach. "You're always acting like you've got perpetual PMS or something." _Around me, anyway._ "It's no wonder you're single and only lusting after that doctor guy of yours."

At that, Allison slammed her book shut and glared at him, her face red. "Oh, that's really rich, dumbass," she snapped, getting up to stalk into the kitchen and pull a Sprite out of the fridge. "And you know what? My love life is none of your business."

"What love life?" Morris retorted, putting his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and following her into the kitchen to get a fresh one. "Last time I checked, lusting and personal hand jobs didn't count as one."

_I could give you a real love life,_ the little voice in his head whispered, and he mentally slapped it away.

Allison suddenly slammed the Sprite down on the counter and rounded on him; Morris took a step back out of her personal space. "You don't have any fucking clue what you're talking about," she snarled. "So why don't you go back to jacking off to Playboy or whatever it is _your_ love life entails?"

_Damn, she's something when she's angry,_ the voice piped up, and Morris blinked. _Okay, maybe I'm enjoying this a little more than I should._ He put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, whoa, calm down, I was just yanking your chain. But, since you asked," he added, a touch snidely, "my love life consists of going out on actual dates. You should try it sometime. You know, go out, meet someone, get a little drunk, have a good time if you even know how to."

Still seething, Allison glared at him for a moment longer before snatching her drink up and striding back to the couch. "Find something else to yank it about," she muttered in the general direction of the television.

Mostly unperturbed, Morris made a mental note that her (lack of a) love life was obviously a sore topic as he followed her back to the couch, fresh beer in hand. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes as they settled back down on the couch again. Seeing that _Baywatch_ was over, Morris resumed flipping channels, while Allison did a poor job of pretending to be absorbed in her book. Finally, she muttered sullenly, "How did you know about Dr. Stewart, anyway?"

Morris grinned. "I listen to the nurses when they gossip."

Allison practically gaped at him, and it was all he could do not to snicker. Apparently she thought she'd been keeping her crush on the down low. "They what? But you're—and I'm—"

"Yeah, they've got this whole network, didn't you know? They know everything about everyone." He was finding the expression on her face entirely too comical. "I don't get it. If you want to hook up with the guy, why don't you say something? You'll never score if you don't."

She couldn't decide whether to be flustered or annoyed. Who did he think he was, to be giving her dating advice? Her bosom buddy? She only had one of those, and her name certainly wasn't Archie Morris. "Because—because—you wouldn't understand," she settled for mumbling, staring resolutely at her book.

Morris eyeballed her. "I resent that," he said mulishly. In reality, he was still enjoying the exchange quite a bit. "What wouldn't I understand?"

Rolling her eyes, Allison heaved a sigh, flipped her book shut, and got to her feet. "You want to know what?" she snapped derisively, narrowing her eyes at him. "Wanting someone for something besides sex. You're just like every other stupid male your age—you're all infantile sex-obsessed black holes who can't carry an intelligent conversation to save your measly little lives, and you're only interested in three things from women: breasts, ass, and whether or not we put out. And you wonder why I don't date."

With that, she flounced off to her room in a huff, shutting the door none too gently behind her.

Morris worked his jaw for a minute, eyebrows quirked in vague amusement, looking at the TV with unseeing eyes. _Law & Order_ was on. "Do you put out?" he finally muttered, half to himself, half to the closed bedroom door across the way. "Might improve your mood if you did."


	4. Chapter 4

**Learning To Fall  
By Allison E.L. Cleckler**

The weeks passed and the two roommates settled into what was, for Morris at least, a comfortable relationship. Allison did her best to ignore him and he took great delight in pushing her buttons, learning which ones would really make her fly into a temper. (Her crush on Dr. Stewart was a particularly volatile topic.) Often they would end up arguing for an hour at a time, shooting barbs back and forth over even the most inane subjects—goading Allison over a beer became Morris's favorite way of unwinding after a long shift. He found her habit of sniping viciously at him with the littlest provocation to be vastly entertaining.

He doubted she enjoyed the verbal sparring half as much as he did, though, if she enjoyed it at all. His insults, for the most part, were all generally meant in good fun; hers, on the other hand, seemed to be very much genuine. After their first meeting she had never again even halfway smiled at him, and she didn't even bother hiding her derision towards him. To her, he seemed to be an annoyance she had no choice but to put up with.

Morris hadn't really expected her to like him anyway. He liked _her_, despite the way she treated him. She was pretty, and smart, with a vocabulary like a dictionary; she reminded him of Neela Rasgotra in that respect. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and she could take care of herself. But he supposed what he thought didn't matter and never would. She was just another small failure in a lifetime of them.

He'd get over it. He always did.

So having resigned himself yet again to being nothing but a loser in someone's eyes, and more or less content to continue their ongoing battle of wills without change, he was wholly unprepared for the sharp turn their relationship was about to take.

It was a Wednesday evening and after working a day shift, Morris was at home working on the residents' schedules for the next two weeks. Ray was the only one who had asked for a specific time off due to some gig he had lined up with his band, so he was taking that into account; that and the fact that he was still peeved at Abby for calling him an asshole. He decided to put her down for two twelve-hour shifts in a row.

Suddenly the door banged open and Allison stormed in, walking so rapidly through the living room and into her bedroom that Morris barely had time to catch sight of the tail end of her scarf disappearing around the corner into the hall.

"Hi honey, I'm home," he called after her, one eyebrow raised.

There were more banging sounds from inside her room, as though she had yanked her bag and shoes off and thrown them at a wall. Morris shrugged to himself and went back to his timetables.

Then she came banging back out of her room and into the kitchen; looking up again, Morris was mildly taken aback to see that her face was flushed and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her braided hair was disheveled, she'd undone the first couple buttons of her shirt, and her entire demeanor screamed 'extreme distress'. Yanking a Sprite out of the fridge, she tried several times to pop the lid, but her hands were shaking and she swore loudly.

"What's up with you?" Morris asked, watching her with interest. "Did your doctor guy stomp on you?"

"Shut up, Morris," Allison muttered, still struggling with the Sprite. Swearing in frustration, she stopped and stared at it for a moment, then put it back in the fridge and grabbed a beer instead. The lid popped on her first try. Holding the can up in a mock salute, she declared, "Here's to getting absolutely plastered," and tossed back a huge gulp.

He snorted, still watching her, as he turned a page in his binder. "Real classy, Al. Seriously, what's up?"

"None of your fucking business," she sputtered, choking down the beer, and glared at him as she savagely wiped tears from her eyes.

"Sor-_ry_. You want to try sipping that?" Morris glanced up at her, saw her wiping the tears away, the glare on her face morphing into an expression of sheer misery. Something had to have happened with that doctor. He couldn't think of anything else that would make her so upset. Not like he knew a ton about her in the first place. "He stomped you, didn't he."

Allison took another enormous gulp of the beer and exploded, "Yes, he stomped me! Someone must've told him how I felt about him because he confronted me about it—he—he _laughed_ at me. Said I'm way too young for him, that I'm just a kid. Just a stupid kid." She slumped against the countertop, running her hands over her face and adding bitterly, "Why is it so funny? Why did he have to _laugh_?"

Morris set his paperwork aside and leaned back on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. This was a new dimension to the nature of their running arguments. She had never opened up to him before about anything she considered important. "Maybe because it is kind of funny? And weird. You've got a crush on some guy twice your age who's a total brain case. That's not normal."

"Thanks so much for your vote of confidence," Allison muttered, rubbing at her eyes again before picking up the beer and coming into the living room. She dropped heavily onto the opposite end of the couch from Morris with a ragged sigh.

He considered her for a moment before reaching out to pat her leg sympathetically. "I'm sorry, really." 

Allison flinched but kept her eyes trained on the beer can in her hands. "Why do I somehow doubt you."

"What, that I'm not sorry?" He _was_ sorry, truth be told. Besides the fact that he actually liked her, he felt bad for her that she'd been disappointed so badly. He could sympathize somewhat. Reaching over to flick his fingertips against her forehead, he added, "Well, I'm not now."

She flinched again, recoiling, and eyeballed him. "I don't think you have any capacity for anything approaching real sympathy or affection or any of that gushy shit. I bet you said you were sorry just to try and get in my pants." She tossed back the remainder of the beer, looked at the empty can for a moment, then jumped off the couch, heading for the fridge again.

Morris watched her go and tried not to be stung. "You're so not my type. And I did mean it."

Swiping another beer out of the fridge, Allison turned on her heel to face back towards Morris. "And now just why the hell would you be sorry? Do you even know what it's like to really care for someone? Besides, I thought your mission in life was to nail every woman in your line of sight, which right now would consist of me."

She popped the lid on the can and took another long pull; Morris nearly spat out his own mouthful of beer. "_What_? No. You keep accusing me of wanting to sleep with you, but I think it's the other way around." Allison rolled her eyes, plainly telegraphing her opinion of that, and Morris took his feet off the coffee table. "And for your information," he continued snottily, "I do know how to care for people. I've had relationships before."

"That were about more than the sex? Right." She rolled her eyes again, exaggeratedly, and Morris began to wonder how much of a lightweight she was. "And you want to know why I keep accusing you of that? Because your attitude seems to imply you'd sleep with me because I exist." Taking another swig of beer, she added, "Well, _I_ won't. _You're_ not endearing."

That did sting, and this time Morris didn't even really try to pretend that it didn't. His attitude? Where was she getting her signals from? Sure, he appreciated a good-looking female like any other guy, but it wasn't like he'd been openly ogling her with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Or anyone else, for that matter. Scowling, he got up and went into the kitchen, taking the beer out of her hands. "Who says I'm not endearing?"

"I do, Mister Male Chauvinistic Pig," Allison replied emphatically, snatching the beer back and poking Morris square in the middle of the chest with one long finger.

Morris made a face at her and turned to get another beer out of the fridge; his was warm and nearly finished anyway. "I have _no interest_ in sleeping with you," he repeated, though if he were being honest with himself, he would have to admit that wasn't entirely true. But she was his roommate. And she hated him. "You'd probably just imagine I was your old doctor guy and scream his name anyway. Then I'd have to throw up." 

For a moment the thought _did_ make him want to hurl, and he masked the sudden bad taste in his mouth by popping the lid on the beer and taking a long gulp.

Finding her own can empty, Allison's faced drooped in disappointment before she decided to relieve Morris of his almost before he was done swallowing; he sputtered as she drained another quarter of the contents and then handed it back. "Why no interest, huh? Am I just asexual? Or not loose enough? What is it?" She poked him in the chest again, defiantly, staring him down.

Maybe it was the light, but Morris thought her eyes looked slightly unfocused. And their game of insult tennis was beginning to make him feel slightly uneasy. It wasn't the nature of her insults, not exactly—it was more the undercurrent of emotion he sensed beneath them. The tone of her voice was becoming almost desperate in a way, needy. It was something entirely new from her and he didn't know how to deal with it.

"You aren't asexual, not with the way you lust after your old doctor guy." Deciding to go with 'situation normal', Morris jabbed her back. 

"You once said I was, jackass," she snerked nastily. 

"_And_," he continued, keeping a tight grip on his can of beer in case she decided to try and steal it again, "I'm not interested because you're my roommate and things would just get awkward. Sorry."

Yep. That was about what it boiled down to. A partial truth that she would never recognize for what it was. Story of his life. Maybe he just ought to start speaking the whole truth and see where it got him. Probably slapped a lot.

Apparently having finally decided that he really meant he wasn't interested in her, Allison crossed her arms across her chest and looked away sourly. Her posture radiated defeat and, oddly enough, disappointment. "Wow… I must be some horrible disgusting mutant for _you_ to not want to nail me. Great."

At that, Morris felt something inside him snap. Suddenly the ribbing wasn't so amusing anymore; suddenly it wasn't a game. Suddenly he was just sick and tired of it all—sick of being hated for no good reason, sick of being accused of being a man whore, sick of actually taking it personally. Sick of lying to himself. "Shut the hell _up_, Al," he snapped, slamming his beer can down on the counter. "Why would I want _you_? You're always talking about how horrible I am and how you have the hots for someone else!"

And then without even thinking, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her hard on the lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Learning To Fall  
By Allison E.L. Cleckler**

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Morris pushed Allison back after only a second, a little stunned at himself; blowing out a long breath, he grabbed for his beer and chugged the rest of it in its entirety. Allison seemed to be just as stunned as he was—she was staring at him, boggling really, one hand drifting up to touch her lips.

The sudden silence in the room was deafening.

"You just kissed me," she finally said, lamely.

Morris wiped his mouth on his sleeve and set the empty can back on the counter, looking everywhere but at her. Their argument had turned from a game, to an annoyance, to—_something_, something he wasn't prepared for, faster than he could process. "Yeah," he replied, his voice dull. "I did."

Allison opened her mouth and then closed it several times, as though she were having trouble forming words. At last, sounding oddly defensive and hurt, she said, "What the hell did you do that for?"

He looked up at her just in time to see the hurt tone of her voice show in the expression on her face, and just like that he was back to being exasperated. Damn it if she wasn't turning into his own personal roller coaster. Would it even be worth the effort of trying to understand her?

"I give up!" he cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "You repeatedly verbally attack me for _not_ making a move on you, and then I kiss you and you act like I kicked a puppy."

What _had_ he kissed her for, anyway? It'd been a lousy way of proving his point. _Oh yeah, there's no way I'm interested in you, so come here and give me a smooch._ Maybe he'd figured it was the only opportunity he'd ever have to steal a kiss from her. Yeah. That was probably it. Assuming he was suddenly into _wanting_ to steal kisses from her. Where had being okay with arguing for the rest of eternity gone?

Oh, who was he kidding. It hadn't ever really been there in the first place. He was attracted to her, no bones about it.

Allison flinched away from him, and her eyes became bright with tears. "Well, you didn't have to do it just to make me shut up," she wailed. "Am I really that disgusting? Goddammit…" The tears spilling over and down her cheeks, she slid down the cabinets until she was sitting in a dispirited slump on the kitchen floor.

_Shit._ Sighing, Morris sat down next to her and, after a moment's hesitation, put an arm around her shoulders. Despite his annoyance and exasperation, he did still feel bad for her, and he wanted to make her feel better. Half of her current craziness was probably due to the beer she'd had anyway, and he couldn't judge her too harshly for that. The desire to get plastered after a big letdown was nothing new to him. Softly, he said, "You aren't disgusting," and he meant it.

She had tensed up at first when he put his arm around her, but was now slowly beginning to relax. "Oh really," she sniffled bitterly. "So why is it that I fuck up horribly with Dr. Stewart, my colleagues only ever try to get me drunk in a completely platonic way, and the reputed man whore of the ER won't even take a shot at me, roommate or no?"

Morris didn't even want to know how he'd acquired that particular label, and decided to ignore it. He had no desire to play the argument game anymore. Looking sideways at her, he mentally took a deep breath and asked seriously, "Do you want me to?"

Allison looked back at him quickly, surprise and distrust evident in her eyes, and said, "Would _you?_ Or would you just be doing me a favor, and grimace and bear it and take a bleach bath in the morning?"

He shook his head, trying his best not to get insulted and failing miserably. What did she think? He'd kissed her before of his own free will. He sure as hell wouldn't be grimacing if he got the chance to do it again. In fact, he'd—and why the hell was he even thinking about that? "You know," he replied defensively, "contrary to my reputation, I do like being a nice guy sometimes. And I've never given anyone a pity fuck, and I don't plan to start now."

"You mean you'd pass up an easy lay? Nice. Good for you. Maybe you have some integrity after all." To Morris's surprise, Allison dropped her head onto his shoulder and let it loll there; after a moment, he brought his hand up to run his fingers through her hair. She didn't flinch away, and he was glad.

They stayed that way for another long moment, then Allison said, "You didn't answer my question."

He almost took his hand away from her hair, but she no longer seemed combative, only curious. "Which question?" he asked. "Would I make a move on you? Maybe… I don't know. Half the time I think you'd kick me in the nuts if I tried." He looked down at her. She looked almost peaceful, resting against him, and he was a little regretful that it was probably just the alcohol working its magic on her. "You would, too, wouldn't you?"

She shook briefly against him in silent laughter. "If you were a macho ass about it, I would. If you actually meant it, I… would pass out from shock or something."

Morris shook his head and chuckled ruefully. Knowing himself and his track record as he did… "Yeah, well, there's a fifty-fifty chance of that happening." He drew his hand away from her face and watched the strands of hair as they fell from his fingers. Any minute now, he was going to say the wrong thing, and she'd remember that she hated him, and this moment would be ruined. "I really should be offended by the way you've been insulting me all night," he decided to add, as if he in fact wasn't insulted already.

Allison shook her head a little and replied, "But I insult you every night. It's practically tradition."

He watched her for a moment before responding; again, she'd spoken entirely without rancor. _It's the beer_, he told himself. _Enjoy yourself while it lasts, because dimes to dollars this'll never happen again._ "Why'd you want to room with me if you can't stand me?" he asked finally. "Are you that hard up for money?"

"I don't like living by myself," she said simply. "And you're better than nothing."

_Drunken honesty for the win_, he thought, and again failed at not being insulted.

Before he could articulate a suitably blasé response, however, Allison asked plaintively, "Why'd you kiss me if you didn't want to do it?"

Morris let his hand rest still against her head as something in his stomach went vaguely sour. She was still thinking that? Count it as blow number two hundred and sixty-three to his ego. Drawing in a deep breath, he said quietly, "I wanted to see if you were all talk or not… if you'd kiss me back."

At that, Allison lifted her head up to look at him, an almost comical expression of surprise on her face. "Well, you should have said so," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You surprised me. And you called me that godawful nickname and told me to shut the hell up." She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "We need to work on your people skills."

"My people skills? What about your social skills?" He elbowed her back with a small smile. "I told you to shut up because you were getting all emotional and crazy. I kissed you because, well… you looked like you could use a good kiss." Morris stared at her for a long moment, taking in the sadness and hurt still lingering on her face and the faint downturn of the corners of her mouth. The way she was looking back at him, for the first time he could recall, without any hint of derision or dislike. Suddenly all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and—hold her. Kissing her would be the icing on the proverbial cake. Softly, he added, "You still do."

She raised her eyebrows at him, intrigue and confusion flitting across her face in turns. "You want to kiss me? Why?"

Morris was slightly taken aback. Either the unthinkable was happening and she was actually warming up to him, or… she was just drunk. He didn't know whether to say the truth or something completely ridiculous, because how could he be sure she'd remember any of this in the morning? Either way, he would definitely remember this. Every single moment of it.

He decided to go with another partial truth. "I think you're cute. Do _you_ want me to kiss you?"

Allison actually blushed a little, and to his further surprise, said, "Only if you mean it."

Oh hells. Drunk or not drunk, she'd just given him an open invitation. It was light years more than he'd ever dared to hope for from her, in any situation.

_I'll mean it, all right_, he thought, and gently took her chin to bring her lips to his.

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When he kissed her, Allison felt as though something had seized up in her stomach, and it was suddenly hard to breathe; she was only peripherally aware of his hand slipping into her hair and the way it made her scalp tingle. This was nothing like the first kiss he'd planted on her… this one was soft and gentle and made the shattered remnants of her broken heart ache. He pulled away after a long suspended moment to gauge her reaction, his eyes searching hers. Feeling thoroughly jumbled and mixed beyond anything she knew how to deal with, the only thing she could think of to say was the impossibly odd non sequitur "Survey says?" 

Morris sighed and kissed her roughly on the forehead, then let his head fall back against the cabinet. That was that, she was drunk and this was a pipe dream. If he went any further he'd just be taking advantage of her. "You? Are hopeless."

Very much drunk but suddenly feeling far from it—more like oddly jittery and nervous and as if she were standing on thin ice—Allison cautiously reached out to touch his cheeks with the tips of her fingers. She wanted to say something, anything, but words had failed her and she felt utterly lost. Morris just stared back at her, almost as though he was seeing her clearly for the first time. The touch of her fingers had felt like an electric spark on his skin, and he didn't want to move for hope that she would touch more than just his cheek, with more than just her fingertips.

Finally, feeling frozen in place, Allison managed, "I'm really confused right now."

_Archie? You are an idiot. She doesn't want you. She wouldn't want you in a million years._ Figuring he'd just made a fool of himself for what had to be the millionth time in his life, Morris tried to shrug nonchalantly and blew out a long breath he'd only just become aware he was holding. "Yeah. Sorry my name isn't Stewart and I don't do it for you, Al."

Her hand dropped away from his face then as if cut from a string, and her eyes turned sad as she looked back at him. She couldn't figure him out—usually he was a careless, wisecracking pain in the ass, but tonight he'd been… caring rather than careless. Like he was constantly on the verge of saying something more. And he hadn't laughed at her. Selfless altruism wasn't something she'd ever expected from him, so she couldn't help but think he was being nice because he expected something in return, no matter his protests to the contrary.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, almost pleadingly.

_Everything_, he almost said, and for a moment he thought he _had_ said it aloud. But no… admitting that would only lead to disaster. Better just to stay quiet and keep their kiss as a warm memory.

"Nothing," he said instead, pushing himself up to his feet. He was tired—tired of lying to himself, tired of dancing around questions he didn't think she would really want him to answer. He'd throw out one last attempt at kindness for the night, and that would be it. She'd say yes or no, and either way when tomorrow came they'd go back to their usual routines. Looking down at her, he offered, "I'm going to bed. You can feel free to join me, or you can keep sitting there all night."

Allison stared at him, stunned. _He's actually doing it_, she thought. _He just propositioned me._ Despite the revulsion coiling in her stomach at the thought, her heart was leaping at it as well. She felt discarded, unworthy… she wanted nothing more than to feel wanted, needed, even if only in the basest way. And Morris was making her an offer she found she couldn't bring herself to refuse.

"If… if you don't want me," she said faintly, "I won't come." It was like hearing another person talk with her voice.

Morris just held his hand out to her, waiting to see if she'd stand up and come with him. He didn't think she'd accept the offer, because he knew she thought the worst of him. But all he wanted to do was hold her. Yes, it was selfish, but maybe it would keep her from crying herself to sleep. "I don't have any expectations, Al."

Suddenly terrified with anticipation of what she felt she was tacitly agreeing to do, Allison silently reached up to take his hand.

A little surprised, but pleased, Morris pulled her to her feet and then scratched his neck almost nervously, asking, "Coming?" He nodded towards his bedroom and started down the hall without looking back, ridiculously feeling like Orpheus in the old Greek myth—if he turned around, Allison would disappear and his pipe dream come to life would disappear with her. Once in his room, he kicked his shoes and slacks off into a corner and sat on the bed to peel off his socks.

When he could bring himself to look up, Allison was in the doorway, watching him with an indecipherable expression on her face. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly as he stretched out on one side of the bed to lay down. "Make up your mind and kill the lights, huh?"

She stood there for half a moment longer before quickly flipping off the overhead light. Morris almost thought she'd changed her mind and fled, but then the mattress dipped under her weight and he felt a questing hand brush his shoulder. "You know," her voice said carefully in the darkness, "I've never gotten past third base before, and it's been a while since that…"

Morris almost laughed at the absurdity of her comment coupled with the whole situation, but bit his tongue and said reassuringly, "Hey, no expectations, remember? Just come here and lay down."

Still terrified inside, Allison crept forward and settled down next to him, her head automatically finding his shoulder. He shifted to accommodate her and slipped an arm under and around her, holding her close while he pulled the blankets up with his free hand. Feeling how tense she was, he dared to press a kiss to her temple and said quietly, "Hey, relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know," she replied just as quietly, and was a little surprised to discover she meant it. Somehow, she felt she could trust him. She hadn't been held by anyone in a long time, and mused that as much as she'd wanted to curl up in a ball and die today, this wouldn't be a bad place to do it. Pretending she was wanted.

Testing the waters, Morris gently ran a hand up and down her arm, taking in how soft she was. Her hair smelled like oranges. "You smell pretty good," he commented. "As long as you don't talk in your sleep, I'd say we're pretty golden."

She couldn't help it; she chuffed a little in laughter even as her stomach did flip-flops at the feel of his hand on her arm. Any moment she expected it to drift to more intimate places. "Supposedly I grind my teeth sometimes." Letting out a nervous breath, she shifted her head to a more comfortable position on his shoulder and let her hand move to rest on his chest.

Morris smiled in the darkness and covered her hand with his, lacing their fingers together. It was almost like he was living a damn dream. He didn't want to fall asleep, because then he'd have to wake up and there would be no more holding her like it was the most natural thing in the world. "That's nice… I have a tendency to shove teeth grinders out of bed in my sleep."

_Any moment now_, Allison repeated silently to herself, and exhaled again. Despite her nerves, she was starting to relax; being held, even by him, was more of a comfort than she wanted to admit.

"This is nice," she murmured, almost to herself.

Tentatively placing another kiss on her brow, Morris let his lips linger there as he murmured wordlessly in kind.

She shivered slightly at his breath on her skin, fully expecting him to extend the kiss along her cheek and to her own lips. But he didn't; he remained just as he was, holding her lightly with her head nestled in the curve of his neck, and Allison couldn't decide whether she was relieved or disappointed. Maybe she'd been mistaken, maybe he didn't want her after all. But if he didn't, why had he invited her into his bed? Confused, she tilted her head back to look up at him in the darkness and asked, her voice quavering slightly, "If… if you don't expect anything from me, if you don't want me… why did you ask me in here?"

_Oh, goddammit. Game over._ Morris turned his head towards the sound of her voice and frowned, letting go of her hand and the arm he'd been caressing. "Do you really think I'm _that_ much of an asshole?" he demanded flatly. "Why are you here if you think sex is all I want? Huh? Damned if I do and damned if I don't."

"I don't know why I'm here," she whispered, almost horrorstruck at how badly she had misjudged him.

He kept on, his voice rising, not even bothering to mask the hurt he felt. Here he was, being completely altruistic, hoping he could offer her some small measure of comfort if only for one night, keeping things entirely innocent, and she _still_ thought he was only out to get some tail. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanted to hold you for a little while? Make you feel a little bit better than you've been all night?"

It hadn't occurred to her, and she felt wretched and confused for it. Blindly, she reached up to touch her fingers to his cheek again and said quietly, "If that's true, then there's more to you than I thought."

She didn't want to believe that—it didn't fit at all with how she knew him, what she'd heard about him. But then again, here they were in his bed and he honestly hadn't made any moves on her. He had to know how vulnerable she was tonight, how tipsy she was, how easy it would be to get what he wanted if sex _was_ all he wanted. But he hadn't taken advantage of her at all. He'd just tried to be a friend, as crazy as that seemed, and she'd misinterpreted everything.

"Nah, you're right, I'm just the incompetent chief resident who likes _Baywatch_ and beer," Morris was retorting bitterly. "You think so highly of this Stewart guy, who I bet you know just as well as you know me, and you think I'm this… I don't know, some sex-crazed creep."

Something jolted in Allison's chest when she heard the bitterness in Morris's voice—she recognized it, from earlier, in her own voice.

_Wow… I must be some horrible disgusting mutant for_ you _to not want to nail me._

_Why would I want_ you_? You're always talking about how horrible I am…_

Everything. She'd misread everything.

He was pulling away from her now, both physically and emotionally, hurt pouring off him in waves. She realized she didn't want him to go away, she didn't want him to leave her all alone, she wanted to keep the illusion that someone wanted her, even if that someone was a person she didn't like…

She drew in a deep breath, her stomach churning, and reached up to take his face in her hands and turn him back towards her. He started to say something, to push her away, but suddenly there was just the barest touch of her lips on his, halting and uncertain, and they both froze.

_What am I doing here?_ Allison thought.

_Fuck this_, Morris thought.

She hovered there for only a second longer before his hand was caressing her cheek, sliding into her hair, and his lips were sealed against hers, gently at first but then more demanding, more _wanting_. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought, _You'll do_, and she threw away her dislike and fear and kissed him back with all the desperation of a drowning swimmer reaching for air.


	6. Chapter 6

**Learning To Fall  
By Allison E.L. Cleckler**

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**_Author's Note:_**_ This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature. I consider it a mid- to hard R rating; others may consider it NC-17. You have been warned._**  
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There was an argument taking place in Archie Morris's head:

_Dude, you're making out with your roommate.  
So? She's totally into it now. Take this ball and run with it.  
…your roommate that hates you? And did I mention she's drunk?  
Hey, she started this. You want her, she's acting like she wants you, quit arguing with yourself and run. with. it._

Her hand on his cheek was light and warm and she was opening up to him readily; she tasted like beer and cinnamon drops on his tongue. Carefully, testing her limits, he moved his hand from her hair and slowly trailed it down the front of her body.

Allison felt oddly as though she were experiencing everything from outside herself. She was perfectly aware of what she was doing, knew what she was going for, and knew in her heart that it was wrong, but at the same time she was unable to stop herself. He was here and she could tell he was willing, and she needed to be wanted too badly to care about just who was doing the wanting.

At the touch of his hand on her, she whimpered softly and automatically shifted closer to him. Morris took that as a good sign and, encouraged, pulled her flush up against him. Damn, but she fit him just right, he mused, trailing kisses along her jaw and up to her ear. _Not to mention she's softer than soft,_ he mentally added as he slipped his hands under her shirt to unhook her bra. She shivered lightly against him and he ran his hands up the length of her back, then lightly raked his nails down her side to skim his fingertips along the underside of her breasts, exploring her as much as he dared.

She inhaled sharply against his mouth and shivered again, her entire body suddenly aching for more. She wanted to meld herself to him, to drown in him if it were humanly possible—to lose herself in skin and lips and feeling. Her arms were around him now but it wasn't enough for her; she hooked a leg over one of his to pull him even closer.

That brought them into almost unbearably intimate contact, and Morris's pleasure-hazed senses sparked back to reality. Pulling away slightly, he asked, "Al?"

Her hands were at the nape of his neck, the tip of her nose was almost touching his, and his lips were tantalizingly close. Allison felt both hypersensitive and miles removed at the same time. "Yeah?"

Morris cleared his throat and ran his hands over her back again, looking at her. His vision had adjusted to the darkness and he could see that her eyes were clear, and not unfocused at all. He was still having doubts about the state of her sobriety; her sudden interest in him still seemed too good to be true. "Are you really okay with this?"

"No," she said simply, leaning in so their foreheads touched, and something in Morris's chest that felt like hope shriveled and died. But then she closed the distance between them by gently claiming his lips with hers, a wordless invitation to continue, and the hope instantly flared back to life.

_She's just nervous,_ he told himself. _She's a virgin. It's understandable._ And then, _Dude, you're going to deflower a_ virgin_. You better not mess this up or if she hated you before this…_

He kissed her back softly, his hands moving to undo the buttons on her shirt, the kiss growing deeper and more demanding as more of her skin was exposed. Pushing the material apart and across her shoulders, he slid both it and the straps of her undone bra down her arms, and she relaxed against his hands until she was lying on her back without breaking their kiss for even a second. Morris lightly squeezed her hands with his as he brought her sleeves over and off them, then tossed her bra away. Bringing his hands to the curve of her waist, he dipped his fingers inside her pants and gently stroked the skin there.

So far, Allison was everything he'd wanted her to be—warm, almost illegally soft, willing, and most importantly, sober-minded. She knew what she was doing; he'd seen it in her eyes. Reluctantly tearing his lips from hers, he pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered roughly, "I want you."

Oh _God_, how he wanted her. It was almost startling just how much. He hadn't let himself think about it before, but now that it was happening, the desire to have her was almost overwhelming.

Her only response was to push his shirt up and over his head. Allison had realized at the beginning that she didn't want this, she didn't want _him_, at all… but she needed him. And there _was_ a difference between wanting and needing.

Pulling his shirt off and discarding it, Morris reached to undo her pants and tug them off. She immediately lifted her hips to accommodate him, kicking pants and underwear away, her hands tracing the contours of his back and her mouth moving hotly down his neck. It felt almost unbearably good and he was unable to hold back a groan of pleasure. Testing her again, he took one of her hands and guided it to the hard bulge in his boxers.

_For the love of God, don't back down now,_ he silently begged.

Again, Allison said nothing and made no noise, only shuddered slightly before closing her hand around him.

He pressed himself against her hand eagerly, groaning again, and her voice joined his as, growing impatient to feel her, he slipped a hand between her thighs and rubbed his fingers against her. The sound of her moan was like a bomb going off in his head, and he was only too happy to oblige as she grabbed his waist to pull him on top of her. He paused only to get rid of his boxers, shoving them off quickly before turning back to carefully settle himself on top of her. She gasped softly in the back of her throat as their skin met, the heat in him feeling like it would burn her alive.

They were so incredibly close to the point of no return now, and despite the desire he could sense in the way her mouth moved on his, Morris could still hardly believe she wanted to go all the way with him. Reaching to hook a hand behind her knee, he lifted her leg and brought it around his waist. "Tell me you want this, Allison," he demanded in a hoarse whisper against her ear.

Her stomach somersaulting, she murmured into his cheek, "I want it…"

Morris forced himself to take a moment to breathe, propping himself up on his elbows and opening his eyes to look at her. She was so beautiful there beneath him, so very beautiful and long-limbed and about goddamned perfect… but a very small part of him continued to insist that this was a bad idea. That she really was drunk, that she'd wake up in the morning and hate him even more for this, that he didn't want the responsibility of being the first man she was with. Then he squashed that and replaced it with the thought that maybe this would be special for her, that maybe she wouldn't hate him anymore, that just maybe she would realize he wasn't the horrible person she thought he was if he was willing to share this with her.

"You want me," he insisted, hoping to confirm that fact with her as much as he was assuring himself of it; he rocked his hips forward and rubbed himself against her with a low moan. "You want me…"

She shuddered from his nearness, running her hands up and down his chest and then up around his neck into his hair. Her skin felt like it was on fire from the heat raging through her veins. Disgust, fear, hesitation, even anticipation—it was all gone now. She pulled his face down to hers, their lips just barely touching, and replied in a strained murmur, "I _need_ you."

At that, Morris let out a deep breath, closed his eyes, and bit back a loud groan as he slowly, carefully pushed himself inside her.

Her initial gasp at the sensation of his entrance turned into something of a squeak, then a long, low moan as her hands instinctively went to the small of his back to push him in deeper and hold him there. He caught her lips in a searing, bruising kiss but moved against her gently, forcing himself to keep it slow and steady. She was incredibly hot and tight but he wanted to last as long as possible for her; her body against him and around him felt better than he had dared imagine it would.

"You feel… so… good," he gasped against her mouth, his breathing ragged. "God… so good…"

Allison could only kiss him harder, holding him to her as closely as possible with the irrational thought that she might abruptly fly to pieces from the intensity of what she was feeling. She convulsively clenched around him, and when that made the pleasure inside her spike sharply she did it again, harder. Morris groaned and thrust into her faster for a moment, then made himself ease back when he felt himself getting too close to the edge. Then she was clasping him hard at the waist again, hungrily grinding against him, her lips and tongue burning his, clenching around him for a third time like a velvet vise.

"Jesus!" he gasped, unable to stop himself from losing control and moving to pound into her. She arched against him desperately, digging her fingers into his back and moaning his name in a voice he hardly recognized, only intensifying his want for her. And suddenly she was shaking violently, gasping—almost crying—into his ear, and his nerves were overloaded with release and his arms refused to hold him up any longer. He collapsed like so much dead weight against her, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, his breathing in ragged concert with her own.

They stayed that way for a long moment. Then, when his heartbeat began to slow and even out, Morris slid carefully off of her but kept her close, cradling her against his chest. Allison let him do it, her mind numb, unable to do much more than try breathe as evenly as possible.

Running a hand down her back, Morris asked quietly, "You okay, Al?"

She nodded silently. Her forehead was resting against his chest, but her eyes were opening, and she was staring into nothingness.

A little concerned about her relative lack of response, he cupped her chin in his hand and tipped her head up so he could see her face. "Are you okay?" he repeated. "Did… did I hurt you?" God, he hoped he hadn't hurt her. He'd tried to be as gentle as possible, before she'd made it _im_possible for him to hold back.

Thought and feeling were starting to return to her, and a small voice in the back of Allison's mind was chanting:

_What have I done? What have I done?_

She felt unbalanced; she wanted to kiss Morris again, felt she ought to, but at the same time she wanted to push him away and run like hell. But she still wanted—no, needed—to be wanted. And he was warm, and strangely comforting, and _he_ wanted _her_. He _wanted_ her.

"I'm okay," she said, even though she wasn't okay at all.

Morris had no real reason to doubt her words and didn't know they were a partial truth, so he simply nodded. Then, on impulse, he kissed her forehead tenderly and hugged her close. "I'm really glad this happened," he admitted softly, stroking her hair. "I've always… um, thought you were attractive."

_Oh, God._ Bile rose in her throat, and she tried to swallow it down. "You never acted like it," she replied faintly.

Morris kissed her brow again, gently rubbing her back with one hand, enjoying the way she felt in his arms and the simple fact that she was there in the first place. She was perfectly sober and lucid, and she had yet to push him away. That had to mean something. "You thought I was a disgusting pig," he said quietly. "And you weren't interested… you wanted someone else. There wasn't any point. But now? I guess there is a point. I like you, and I think you're pretty. You smell good and you feel great."

The open hope on his face made Allison feel like she was dying inside, even more so than Dr. Stewart's rejection had. She'd never thought Morris might have a side like this, a gentle, almost affectionate side, or a bitter side that clearly wanted to be loved just as much as she did…

_What have I done?_ the little voice in her mind wailed.

Suddenly she was afraid that the misery and disgust overwhelming her might show on her face, and somehow she couldn't bear to let Morris see it, so she quickly buried her face in his chest.

He just hugged her again, figuring she was unsure of how to handle the situation. He couldn't blame her; his first time had been mind-blowing too, and even if there hadn't been that, their relationship had just taken a huge shift in a very short amount of time. He was still processing it same as she was, only it was easier for him because he hadn't hated her at first. "Just get some sleep," he murmured into her hair. "It's late."

"Okay," she murmured back, not trusting herself to speak more than one word at a time.

Entwining his legs comfortably with hers, Morris let out a sigh of contentment and closed his eyes, his hands idly caressing her back as he drifted off into a happy sleep.

Allison kept very still against him. Outwardly she was relaxed, but inwardly her emotions were stretched to the breaking point. Her eyes were still open, and her heart was a slow, painful drum in her chest. She didn't even move when the tears came, not wanting to disturb him and have him ask questions she couldn't or wouldn't answer. She let them flow silently as she continued staring into the nothingness behind her eyes.

_What have I done?_

_What have I done?…_


	7. Chapter 7

**Learning To Fall  
By Allison E.L. Cleckler**

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Waking up to the sensation of someone lying next to him in bed, Morris's first fuzzy thought was _oh God, who did I bring home last night and how drunk was I when I got here?_ Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked over to see a mop of light red hair on the pillow beside him. He frowned for a moment, confused, but then he began to remember... and he smiled.

Allison was still asleep, both hands bunched up next to her cheek, and he could feel her breath on his chest. He still had an arm draped over her waist, and when he lightly caressed her back he almost thought he saw the faintest of smiles play across her lips. Damn, but he'd really enjoyed kissing those lips last night. And learning the way she felt under his hands. And finding out how they fit together just right. The mental reminder of what they'd done only made him smile more. Twenty-four hours ago she'd hated him with all the burning of a thousand suns, but now...? Maybe things would be different. He wanted them to be, anyway. He'd meant what he'd said about admitting he liked her.

It almost felt like he'd woken up to a dream, one he didn't want to end, so he just looked at her, taking in the tiny details he'd never had a chance to see before. Like the four faint freckles that formed a lopsided box around her nose, and the white mark between her collarbone and left breast that was probably an old chicken pox scar. Morris didn't want her to wake up--he'd know then whether or not she'd truly changed her mind about him, and he didn't want the answer to be a literal slap in the face. But it was going to happen, and sooner rather than later. Might as well begin the day on his own terms.

Morris had just decided to lean in and kiss her awake when life intervened to ruin the moment in the form of his alarm clock going off.

Startled, he flinched away from Allison and sat up with an annoyed groan, reaching over her to slap at the snooze button. He relaxed the instant the shrieking thing went silent and looked at Allison; she had rolled over onto her back and was grumbling quietly. Smiling again, he leaned down and quickly but soundly kissed her, saying cheerfully, "Good morning, sunshine."

"Too fucking loud," she mumbled, for all intents and purposes still asleep, and finished rolling over to bury her face in the pillow. A moment passed and then she jerked her head up, wincing as her brain seemed to ricochet off the inside of her skull, and blinked at her surroundings. Then she looked over at Morris, and literally felt the blood drain from her face.

Morris chuckled at her reaction, heartened by the fact that she hadn't outright slapped him, or screamed, or bolted from the room. "Not a morning person, I take it?" he teased, running a hand along her arm.

"Not really," she replied faintly, flinching slightly at the touch of his hand and fighting the urge to shrink into herself beneath his gaze. She very clearly remembered what had happened the night before--no, that was a severe understatement, it was seared into her memory--but in what restless dreams she'd had, she had fervently hoped that everything had all been just that... a dream. And now she felt like she had woken up to some kind of twisted nightmare. Running a hand through her hair to press the heel of her palm to her forehead, she squeezed her eyes shut and muttered, "Jesus, someone please crack my skull open..."

Morris frowned. "Got a bit of a hangover, huh?" He bent to kiss her forehead and got up to get some aspirin and a glass of water. He returned with an apologetic smile. "If we were working this morning I'd get you something stronger, but this'll have to do."

Allison accepted the aspirin and the water and rolled onto her side to take the pills; she gulped the contents of the glass in two swallows. "I don't drink that much," she muttered by way of explaining her headache.

Morris had shut off the alarm clock and hopped back into bed. Watching her, he ventured, "You were... great last night."

She nearly threw up into the water glass, but somehow managed to keep her reaction confined to swallowing the last gulp of water more forcefully than she'd meant to. "Thanks," she murmured uncertainly, putting the glass down on the nightstand, unable to meet Morris's eyes.

Further heartened by her continued lack of hysterics and deciding to think positively, Morris wrapped an arm around her and hugged her reassuringly. "I meant it," he replied honestly, kissing her shoulder, and then grinned. "We can always have another go at it to prove my point if you don't believe me, babe."

Allison almost bolted from the bed right then and there, her mouth going sour, but at the same time there was a hot twinge deep in her belly at his suggestion that completely betrayed her. Admit it to herself or not, she _had_ enjoyed last night... though she hadn't liked it. And realizing that she wasn't averse to doing it again made her want to both vomit and kiss him senseless--bury herself in him again.

Trying to keep her voice neutral, she said, "You... you'd want to?"

_Are you crazy?_ he thought, his confusion manifesting itself in a furrowed brow, but then he shook his head and laughed quietly. "Of course I would... I do. Why wouldn't I want to keep sleeping with you?"

"You do?" She looked up at him then and didn't like what she saw. There was a fond expression in his eyes, earnest and genuine. Allison desperately wanted him to go back to being an asshole. It would be easier to keep hating him that way. This Morris, she could almost start to like.

He obviously thought she did like him now. Maybe she ought to disillusion him so he could hate her for what she'd done and she could hate him back and the normal order of things could reestablish itself.

But somehow, for whatever reason, she found she couldn't do it.

Her mouth tasting both sour and dry, Allison continued, "Why _would_ you?"

"I'm a guy. We like getting laid." Morris smiled cheekily at her before sobering a little and adding softly, "I told you, last night was great. I like you... even if you are a little odd. Of course I want you."

As much as she didn't want to feel it, something still sparked inside Allison when Morris said he liked and wanted her. Wasn't this what she had wanted all along, what she had hoped for from Dr. Stewart? For someone to _want_ her? But Morris probably just wanted her for the sex. If she didn't look at him, if she didn't see what could be the first glimmerings of affection on his face, she could tell herself that and believe it.

"What's wrong with being a little odd?" she asked weakly.

"Nothing." He brushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled at her. "You make me laugh. It's kind of weirdly sexy, I guess."

There was something almost endearing about the way he smiled at her, and Allison wanted to gut herself. "Every little bit helps," she replied, a little self-deprecatingly. "I'm not really the knockout type."

_She's kidding me, right?_ Morris had the memory of how she'd looked beneath him, could feel her against him right then. He'd thought she looked perfect and he still did. Shaking his head, he said, "I've seen you naked, remember? You're a knockout."

Allison couldn't help it; the compliment made her blush, and she ducked her head, feeling like shit for it. Grasping for something to say or do that would hide her deepening unease, she placed a hand lightly on his chest and replied quietly, "You're not so bad yourself."

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she hadn't said them, because she realized with a jolt that she had actually sort of meant it--that he wasn't so bad looking. But again, Morris either failed to notice the distress she felt she was doing a terrible job of masking, or he misread it entirely. Smirking a little, he said, "Yeah, never had any complaints."

"And you've had a legion, haven't you." Again, the words were out of her mouth before she could consider the impact they might have.

Morris could've hit himself on the forehead then; he realized that he shouldn't have mentioned anything about his past relationships to Allison, considering she'd never had any of her own, if he'd wanted to pursue one with her. "No, not legions," he said quickly, "but yeah, you know I've been involved with other women before you. It's okay... you don't have anything to worry about, trust me."

"I know you have." She nodded, becoming aware that her fingers were softly stroking his chest where her hand rested. She wanted to stop, knew she ought to lest she keep giving Morris the wrong idea, but found all she could do was just stare at her hand and the skin beneath it. Shirtless, he was just as pale as she was.

Then a question occurred to her, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to ask it because she hoped he would say he would or wouldn't. She was well aware what his reputation with the ladies was supposed to be. "How do I know you won't drop me for the next hot thing to come along?"

The question stung and Morris didn't bother trying to keep the hurt from showing on his face. Either she still thought that low of him, or she wanted him to change her mind about it. "Are we doing more than just sleeping together? I mean, that's great... it would be a nice change of pace."

And it would. With most of his past girlfriends, it hadn't been much more than just sex. He'd never been able to connect with them, not the way he really wanted to. They never seemed to want to get to know him past a superficial level. He supposed that maybe they just hadn't liked what they'd seen of him beneath the surface. But with Allison, it seemed to be the opposite--she hadn't liked what she'd seen on the surface, but had been touched by something beneath. Maybe that meant she was what he'd decided to look for, once he'd begun trying to turn a new leaf in his life. Someone different from the others. Someone who'd maybe want to understand him.

"And, you know," he continued, "just because I date a lot doesn't mean I'm not capable of having an actual relationship." He tipped her chin up so he could look her in the eyes, and thought he saw traces of fear in them. Wanting to reassure her, he added with a smile, "I'm not going to drop you just because some other woman flirts with me or something. I get that sort of thing all the time. Women love hitting on doctors."

_He's not supposed to be like this,_ Allison thought. _Not this friendly, kinda charming-in-a-smirky-way guy. Why can't he go back to being the egotistical oaf we're all supposed to hate? I know how to handle that. I wouldn't feel so bad handling that. But this..._

"What makes me so special?" she asked faintly. "Or are you, I don't know, just tired of being a ladies' man?"

Morris wanted to exult--_she does understand!_--but kept it cool and just shrugged. "I like you. I have for a while. And now you like me too, right? Why mess that up?"

He looked so earnest and sincere that Allison couldn't bear to look him in the eyes anymore, though her fingers kept doing lazy circles on his chest like they had a collective mind of their own. "I don't know," she replied softly, because she didn't know what else to say.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, frowning.

She forced herself to look back up at him, and smiled weakly. "I was just agreeing with you," she said quietly, feeling lost and utterly sick inside.

Morris relaxed at her explanation, wondering why he was letting himself get so worked up over everything she said, and then surprised himself by realizing he did want her to be more than just a piece of tail. He wanted her to be the one he was looking for--her, his bitchy, sharp-tongued, brainy and crazy roommate. For her part, Allison just watched him searchingly, wishing she knew what was going on in his head. And more than that, she wished she knew how to get herself out of the mess she'd created for herself, a mess she also couldn't bring herself to run away from.

He watched her watching him for a long moment before smiling and pulling her against him to kiss her.

_Don't do this, don't do this, I don't want this,_ she protested silently as his lips met hers. But the hungry look in his eyes and the way he was trailing his fingers across her stomach made her skin feel like it had been set aflame, and she couldn't stop herself from kissing him back.

Suddenly, a loud beeping noise sounded from the far corner of the room.

"Dammit!" Morris swore. Tearing himself away from Allison with an effort, he rolled out of bed and stalked over to where he'd tossed his pants the night before. Fishing his pager out of one pocket, he glared at the display before shooting Allison an annoyed look. "Sorry, babe. Duty's calling a little early today."

Breathing hard, face flushed, Allison sighed in mixed relief and disappointment. "That sucks," she said, smiling wanly, watching as he pulled on his boxers and pants and went to fish a clean shirt out of the closet.

Putting on the shirt and grabbing a pair of socks from the bureau, Morris walked back over to the bed and bent down to lightly kiss her on the lips. "See you tonight."

Allison automatically smiled back as he pulled away, sitting up and pulling the sheets with her and flipping a little wave goodbye.

Morris went out into the living room to put on his socks and shoes, rescued a tie from where he'd left it on the end table by the couch, then grabbed the rest of his things and left. Allison could hear him whistling jauntily as he shut the door.

As soon as she heard his key turn the lock, she all but fled from the bedroom and into the bathroom. Not even bothering to flip on the light, she bypassed the toilet despite her churning stomach and jumped straight into the shower. She bit back a yelp of shock as the initial burst of cold water hit her back, then turned the knobs until the water temperature was almost unbearably hot. Sinking down to huddle under the spray, she hugged her knees to her chest and let her tears mix with the burning water streaming down her face.


End file.
